


Slavery

by ChaosController



Category: Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Executioner Joan, Executioner Talyn, M/M, Medieval AU, No Smut, Owner Thomas, Slave Logan, Slave Patton, Slave Virgil, Slavery, prince roman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2018-12-12 17:56:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11742192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaosController/pseuds/ChaosController
Summary: Slavery. What did that word mean to him? It was his whole life. It was all he’d ever known. Being a slave. More specifically being a slave in the Sanders household. He’d always been there. He’d never dreamed or imagined being anywhere else. It was preposterous to think he could ever be owned by someone who wasn’t a Sanders. This was his reality. He’d been born into the household. Some may say he was destined to be part of one of the richest, greatest, most powerful households this side of The Great Divider. He worked hard and he had friends here. The house liked him, the family liked him, the servants and slaves liked him. He was happy here.





	1. A Slave By Any Other Name, Would Serve As Well

**Author's Note:**

> There will be no smut. If you've ever read anything I've written, you know I don't write smut. I'm writing this as I go, unlike other works I've done. That means you can change whether I end up pairing Logan and Virgil together like I normally do. You have a say in how the story progresses, sort of.

Thomas bit his lip as the cart pulled up outside the house. The courtyard gleaming white in the hot sun. Why did the royal household want one of his slaves? Even more so, one that he had grown to love as a brother. The pair had been inseparable since their births. Now…now he’d have to send his brother off to the lion’s den. The royal house. Why did it have to be him?

 

Logan wiped the perspiration from his brow and continued to scrub the marble tiles below his knees. The day was swelteringly hot and he wished he didn’t have to work outside on a day like today. He glanced up as a pair of feet obstructed his view of the tiles. Thomas, kind as ever, gave him a small smile and offered him his hand. Logan took the appendage gratefully and pulled himself up into a standing position. He frowned as he gave Thomas a look over. Under all that calm and kindness, a storm was brewing made of fear and anxiety. For anyone who had known Thomas for less time than Logan, they would not have picked this up, merely accepting Thomas’ supposed composure. But Logan had known Thomas a very long time. Something was wrong. 

“Logan, we have a problem.” There it was. Logan sighed softly and wet his dry and cracked lips. He closed his eyes and opened them again before he spoke.

“What sort of problem?”

 

Logan pulled out the small piece of quartz from his sleeve. He felt his anger flare, but the hatred soon turned into sadness. How could Thomas do this? Send him off to work for the royals. He may be a slave, but he should have some say in this…right? Thomas usually ran things by him first, even if it was as little as what to wear to a party or feast. He was always there for his owner, but now…now he was getting carted off to somewhere he had never been or seen in his life. He was leaving his entire life behind and for what? Why did it have to be him? Why did the royals want him? He wasn’t half as useful as the cooks, he was a know-it-all. Why would the royals want that?

The cart pulled up and Logan pushed the quartz back into his sleeve, the rock cool against his flushed skin. There was a small shout and Logan peeked out behind the canvas covering, why they needed such a thing he did not know. The palace loomed high into the sky, pillars and roofs towering into the blue expanse above. The structure was foreboding at best. Dark stone combined with a grey and navy colour palette. Logan bit his lip and waited for the carter to tell him to get out.

A hand came through the curtain and felt around the canvas. Logan was tempted to stay where he was, but if this was a staff member from the palace it would be best to get on their good side. With little difficulty, Logan pulled the curtains apart and sat back watching as a man dressed in white, red and black step back and take him in. 

“You’ll do”, the man said, grabbing his chin and stepping aside as another man stepped into view, waving Logan forward. Logan stepped out of the cart and looked at the ground, finding it more interesting than looking at the two men in front of him. The cart trundled off and Logan fought down the urge to look back at the moving vehicle. The last hope he had for returning to the Sanders household left with the cart and he swallowed heavily as feet obscured his view of the cobbled ground. 

“Name?”, a voice asked and Logan sighed softly.

“Logan, Sanders household”, he recited, knowing the three words off by heart. He’d been taught them since he was young enough to listen and they had remained ingrained in his memory since then. 

“Logan. Alright, from now on you are Logan of the royal household. Understand?”, the voice asked and Logan lifted his head a little. 

“Understood”, he said and the feet walked away from him. There were hushed voices before a cough cause Logan to lift his head. 

“You will attend to my father, the king, in all matters concerning strategy and diplomacy. He will rely on you for wisdom. We have heard good things about you, don’t make us regret our decision”, the man in white, red and black said. Logan’s eyes widened. He was a slave. Born and bred for work. Why would the king of all people want his advice on matters that clearly did not concern him? “I have talked to my father about those same things. I also do not know why he has enlisted you to help him, but do the Sanders household proud and there will be rewards to reap for your services.”

Logan nodded softly and adjusted his posture, straightening his back and holding his head high. He needed to look worthy of this honour, or he was better off dead. 

 

Roman grimaced as the new slave walked into the palace, following Paul as the older slave walked him through the various rooms and levels in the large household. He scratched his chin and walked towards the War Room. Why would his father enlist the help of someone so…common, so dirty and filthy and…all round wrong? Logan wasn’t palace material, let alone right-hand strategist material. The man was mediocre looking at best, and that was high praise for a slave. 

With a sigh, Roman pushed the doors open to his father’s wing and marched towards the room he knew his father would be in. Roman placed his hand on the handle when the doors opened and his father walked out, somewhat startling Roman into jumping back.

“Son”, his father said and Roman grimaced lightly at the nauseating mixture of politeness and withheld rage. 

“Father”, Roman said back, forcing his most charming smile to stay on his face as he spoke in the same tone. 

“Why are you here?”, his father asked, turning to walk down the corridor towards another of his rooms. 

“I would like to discuss this new…toy of yours. The slave from the Sanders household”, Roman said, confirming the direction of the conversation. It was set in concrete now; his father was not backing out of it anytime soon. 

“Ah, the new one? Has he arrived?”

“He has. May I enquire as to your intentions for Logan?”

“You may. Logan suits him. I require his expertise in planning and strategy”, the king said, turning the corner with his son at his heels. 

“How do you know of this…strategic expertise?”, Roman asked, keeping his tone light. 

“I witnessed him play a game of chess with Thomas of the Sanders household. He beat the man in record time and when I versed him I told him not to hold back. He did not and he proved himself quite adept at strategical thinking. He has a knack, a mind that blows my lieutenants out of the water. That is what I need to gain the upper hand”, his father said, a polite but dark smile forming steadily on his face.

Roman frowned at his father’s words. “What are you planning, father?”

“Only the future of the kingdom. Be a good lad and get back to your studies, will you?”, his father said in a voice that Roman detested. With a sneer Roman turned on his heel and walked briskly back to his quarters, making sure to make quite a show of his return. He’d figure out what his father’s plans were and if they did not harm the kingdom he would allow the old man to continue if they did he may have to…step in. This kingdom was to be his one day and he could not have the man run the monarchy into the ground. 

With a flourish of his hand, the prince opened his bedroom door and walked inside, giving the servants and slaves inside and icy stare. They scuttled out and he narrowed his eyes, keeping his face clear of any and all expressions. Once all of them had left Roman walked over to his bed, plopped down on it, grabbed a pillow and screamed into the feather filled fabric. After a few minutes of letting out his frustrations, by means of screaming into a pillow until his voice was hoarse and his throat hurt, Roman lay down and kicked his feet into his bed. He glared at the canopy above him with the same vehemence he assumed his father had shown him the day he was born. His father had always wanted a girl. Not as much trouble apparently. Able to be shut away and given away once he deemed it appropriate.

Roman honestly felt a little sorry for the females that lived as princesses. They may not have the pressure of running a kingdom on their shoulders, but they certainly had no say in how their lives went. Expected to sit, stay and look pretty. As appealing as the life had seemed once upon a time, the true absurdity of the idea lay within the walls of not having a say in the matter. Through their lives, they would have no say, even on their deathbed. His mother had no influence over his father and he assumed it was the same way in all other kingdoms. 

There was a knock and the door opened, voices flowing in through the widening gap. One like silk, the other like crumpled up paper. Roman grimaced as Logan was led in by Paul. The two hadn’t opened their mouths since they had entered and Roman was beginning to wonder which had the silky tone. Then Paul opened his mouth and all of Roman’s questions flew out the window. 

“Good afternoon, Prince Roman. We did not expect to see you here. I apologise, we will leave immediately and come back at a more appropriate time”, Paul said, holding out an arm and turning, ushering out Logan with a quick bow in the prince’s direction. 

Roman hummed softly and rolled over a couple of times. Why did it have to be Logan? Why did he have to have such a nice voice? 

 

Patton looked around as he was escorted into the large cart with Virgil. He frowned and looked at the other criminals in the cart. This was his new life, he reminded himself as he was shoved in and an armed man walked in behind him. Patton dusted off his knees and grumbled lightly, moving closer to Virgil and letting his head rest against Virgil’s shoulder. The two men didn’t look up from the floor as the cart began to move and the two were jolted to and fro inside the wooden contraption. It would be hard to get used to this new life. This life as a slave. 

Patton pondered his thoughts on the matter as his head bumped against Virgil’s and the cart slowed to a stop, moving off again a couple of minutes later. He wondered what his owner would be like. Kind and generous? Mean and rude? A mixture of them all or none of them. He wasn’t sure how he’d function like this, but he was happy enough to just forget his current situation and slip into a world of fantasy. He let his mind wander to a land where he was a prince on a quest to save a town from a dragon, a friendly dragon though. He talked to it, and it replied with little growls of approval. 

Virgil looked down at his companion. The man was off wallowing in his dreams once more, it appeared. Virgil had half a mind to wake him out of spite for their situation, but he resisted the urge. It wasn’t Patton’s fault he had gotten caught stealing. It was his own for not realising how well protected the house had been. With a small sigh, he leant back onto the floor of the cart, curling up by another man’s feet, Patton’s cotton filled head landing on his stomach. 

Virgil ran a hand through the other man’s soft hair and tried to think about the good things to come, things that he should be looking forward to. A bed, warm food, a roof and four walls. Sometimes he really hated Patton for making him think of the positives in life, but the perks to go with slavery and servitude were rather appealing, at least in their current situation. He just hoped their new owner would be kind or at least not a beast. He also hoped they would not get split up. He didn’t think he’d survive without the ray of sunshine in his life. 

 

The cart shuddered to a halt and there was some yelling from the driver. Virgil sat up slowly, careful not to rouse Patton from his daydream to quickly. Once the man was at least semi-conscious of his surroundings he yawned and frowned at the canvas sides of the cart. 

“And I was just about to get to the good bit too”, Patton mumbled sadly, letting his gaze slip from the canvas to the exit where the guard sat, sword in hand, awaiting instructions. Virgil chuckled lowly at Patton’s sad demeanour, the man was really just upset he didn’t finish his daydream. Understandable, but it would be more understandable if he were upset about their new lack of freedom and life of servitude. That Virgil would agree with him on. 

“Alright you lot, file out and wait to be numbered”, the guard said gruffly, waiting for the criminals to get out and take their places before the auction. 

Patton stayed back with Virgil, waiting for the others to leave before he began to get out. He stumbled on the way down, only stopping in his fast decent face first into the ground when the guard grabbed his shirt and hauled him upright. The guard turned his attention to Virgil, who grumbled lightly and jumped off the cart, landing and standing easily.

Within seconds the two were in line, waiting for a number to be put around their necks like a noose on execution day. The turnout was massive, as was to be expected, but only a few people actually seemed interested in buying. Virgil’s eyes scanned the crowd as if looking for someone, which he was. He knew the face of the man who had rescued him from a death sentence, but the man’s name escaped him. His eyes caught a glittering silver owl insignia and he smirked, looking the man up and down. It wasn’t the man who had saved him, but he had the insignia of his rescuer. He assumed they must be siblings or family related in some way since a slave or servant wouldn’t have enough money to pay his ransom, nor would one be allowed out of the house without their owner. 

The man looked at least a little important and Virgil’s chest swelled with a little bit of pride that he had caught the eye of someone from such a prestigious family. His chest deflated though when he caught sight of Patton’s lost expression. The man seemed so afraid they would be separated or sold to a bad owner. Virgil wanted to reassure him, he really did, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie to Patton like that, the man would never trust him again, well…perhaps that was a stretch, but it would be heartbreaking to watch him go from reassured to broken in seconds. 

“In line”, a guard said gruffly, poking a woman a few people ahead of Virgil back into place as she leant out to look at the crowd in front of the stage. The woman hissed softly as the wooden baton was retracted and the guard turned to look at the crowd. Virgil sighed a little as a man with a number two around his neck took a step out of the line and tried to dash for cover, only to be hauled back by a burly female guard.

“Okay everyone, settle down. Let’s begin the auction”, a man said from the stage, dressed in dark colours and gold jewellery. Finery, Virgil thought with a small snort, how many people did it take to buy that ruby ring?

The line began to deplete rapidly, the silver owl having bought no one as of yet. Virgil hoped that he would be bought by the man, he may have more of a chance of begging to save Patton and himself from being split up if that were the case. He hoped that whoever his new owner was, they would be kind enough to listen to Virgil’s pleas. 

“Next up, a burglar. He has a little muscle, but more than enough wit. Number fourteen”, the man announced and Virgil was shoved onto the stage. He breathed in deeply and puffed out his chest a little, looking around at the small crowd as bids began to rise steadily. Virgil swallowed as he found the owl man and looked into the man’s light brown eyes. The man gave him a little smile as the bid was passed and Virgil was slowly escorted towards the steps. 

“Number fifteen. A little bit of a dreamer. Quiet, calm and kind”, the man announced and the owl man stood up. Virgil looked as the man smirked and opened his mouth.

“Five thousand for both fourteen and fifteen”, he said. Virgil’s eyes widened as did Patton’s. A round of gasps and low murmurs ran through the crowd and the man onstage looked shocked at the proclamation. 

“I’ll take it”, Virgil’s owner said and the owl man nodded politely, looking up at the announcer who smirked darkly. 

“Sold”, the announcer said. “To Sir Thomas of the Sanders household.”

 

Virgil sighed softly as the cart bumped along the road. He played a little with Patton’s hair and looked up at his new owner. Thomas Sanders. It was different, but somewhat appealing. The man must be quite rich if he could afford the price he had spoken of. 

“I hope you enjoy your new life”, a voice said and Virgil looked up at Thomas, finding the man smiling at him softly. Virgil pulled Patton’s unconscious body closer to him and watched as the man chuckled a little. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to split you two up. You seem to be rather fond of each other and I’d hate to make you break ties like that.”

Virgil was a little taken aback at the man’s words. The man was kind, at least for now, but he wondered what the young Sanders planned to do with Patton and himself. 

“You…promise you won’t split us up?”, Virgil asked softly, looking at the man with hesitance. 

“I give you my word as a nobleman”, Thomas said and it clicked into place. Of course, Thomas was a nobleman. How else would he be able to have so much money to spend on slaves? It made sense now. 

“Uh…sorry to ask, but that insignia”, Virgil began, looking at the floor then up at Thomas’s insignia. The man looked down at his silver ring and the sewn-on insignia on his clothing.

“Yes, what about it?”, Thomas asked softly, not wanting to spook his new slave out of questioning him. 

“I uh…someone with that insignia…they, they rescued me from being executed…are they…do you have any siblings with glasses?”, Virgil asked, motioning to his eyes. He recoiled a little as Thomas smile turned southward and his eyes began to tear up.

“No. I have no siblings or family except for my servants and slaves. You must be thinking of Logan”, Thomas said softly. Virgil thought a little, the name sounded familiar, very familiar. 

“Did he…was he a slave like Patton and myself?”, Virgil asked and Thomas chuckled a little.

“He was born into a slave family in my household. He and I were like brothers, but sadly he is…no longer with us”, Thomas said, ducking his head to look at the cart’s floor. 

No longer with them, Virgil’s thoughts echoed as dread filled his stomach. 

“Is he…is he dead?”, Virgil asked, feeling a little remorseful and sad even though he had only met the man once. 

“No, no…not dead…but you may never see him again”, Thomas said and the cart stopped moving. “We’re here. Welcome to your new home.”

Virgil felt a little uneasy as Thomas stepped out of the cart. The world outside seemed bright, too bright for him anyway. 

“Are you coming?”, Patton’s voice asked as he sat up and began to crawl to the exit of the cart. Virgil nodded softly and closed his eyes as he was enveloped in white light. His eyes stung a little, but as they began to adjust he took in the spectacle of the nobleman’s housing. 

White stone paved the entrance along with a grey and white marble that shone in the sun. Everything looked new, freshly cut and put into place delicately. The grass was as green as the trees in the forest behind the large house. Statues held up an archway of sandstone like subjects in the face or royalty. All in all, the house looked like it had been ripped from a story book. 

Virgil stared at it a while longer before he shook himself from the daze and followed Patton inside the gates. The inner courtyard was just as spectacular as the outside of the house. Flowers of all colours spread across the lush grass, people tending to them gently. A fountain poured crystal clear water, spewing forth a rainbow shine in the mist it created. People walked to and fro, smiling at each other and giving Thomas appraising looks when he smiled at them. It was like a fairy tale come to life. A kind prince taking pity on two criminals and giving them shelter from all the evils of the world in his picturesque mansion. Except that Thomas wasn’t a prince and there were still many evils he couldn’t protect them from. 

Thomas showed them to their new quarters; a room with a window, two beds, two small tables and two candles. There was enough room for them to move easily, but not too much that they’d be able to fit another bed. The beds were soft, pillows and blankets like being covered in warm clouds. It was heaven compared to the cells they had endured for so long. 

“I will allow you two to have a day’s rest and relaxation. Feel free to wander around the house, but try to limit questions till the end of the day when the staff aren’t busy with tasks. I will expect to see you up at eight tomorrow for assignments and clothing fitting. Have a lovely day”, Thomas said before closing the door and walking away from the room. 

“This. Is. Amazing!”, Patton yelled as he flopped back down onto the bed, snuggling up in the warm mattress and blankets. 

“I’ll agree that this is a good turn of events”, Virgil said with a small smirk as he walked to the large window and took a look outside, watching as people toiled away in a small field. They looked at least a little happy to be working there. There was a trumpeting sound and they dropped their equipment walking over to a large bucket that appeared to be full of water. Each worked grabbed a cup, scooped some water out of the bucket and drank deeply, talking amongst themselves as they began to walk through the archway below Patton and Virgil’s room. Virgil smiled softly as another group walked out of the archway, gabbed another drink from the bucket and got to work on the fields as another trumpet sounded. 

So, this was how the household worked. Rotations and short breaks would keep most happy instead of the monotonous tasks some would have them do. Maybe there were specific jobs for some, but others did this sort of work with rotations. Virgil pondered, deliberating on what to do next when a hand landed on his shoulder and he looked back to see Patton.

“Let’s go exploring”, Patton said with a wide smile, turning on his heel and strolling out of the door. Virgil hummed softly, shrugging and following the man with a small grin. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	2. Give Every One A Second Chance, But Few Their Rightful Deaths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get better before they get worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things deviate from normal. This is the point where the sides get a little...OOC.

Logan sighed and slumped on his bed. He’d been in the palace three hours now and he already wanted to return to the Sanders household. It was quiet here and though he didn’t mind the quiet it was almost silent in the cold, stone hallways. It was dark too like someone had blown out all the candles or draped black curtains over all the windows. He didn’t like it here, but he didn’t have a choice. He wasn’t here because he wanted to be, he was here to do whatever the king wanted him to do. 

At least Paul had been nice. The man was somewhat soft spoken, but he was good to Logan. Logan hadn’t met the king yet, but Paul assured him it was all in due time. He thought back to the prince however and grimaced as the royal’s image swam around in his mind. The man was surely no older than himself or Thomas, yet he seemed so much more…Logan grinned as the word egotistical came to mind. He quickly cleared it away as a knock on the door sounded. 

He replied hesitantly, hoping it was Paul coming back to show him around once more. He was particularly baffled about the many rooms the palace contained. He, however, had no such luck as the prince’s face rounded the door and looked at him. They locked eyes and Logan bit back a small glare as the prince looked at him with unimpressed eyes. 

 

“Perhaps I should keep my bags packed, but not for moving out of the castle. Rather moving inside the castle to a more…hospitable location”, Logan said with a small smirk as the prince’s face fell into confusion. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, the man asked, watching as Logan stood and took a few steps towards the small, arched window that looked out into the courtyard. 

“If you were nicer to me, perhaps I would elaborate on my words”, Logan said, smirking out of the window as he heard the prince huff lightly. With a chuckle, that came out more like a giggle, Logan turned, closed his eyes and smiled at the prince. 

Roman smiled a little and took a few steps forward, extending his hand towards Logan when the other opened his eyes to look at the prince. 

“My name’s Roman, you can call me that or prince”, Roman said smiling as Logan shook his hand softly, looking a little unnerved by the sudden kindness. 

“Logan is fine”, Logan said, still looking at his and Roman’s connected hands. He’d never held the hand of a noble before, let alone a prince. He’d only ever held hands with Thomas and that didn’t count because the pair were inseparable…well, they used to be inseparable. 

“Logan, it is. Since we’re being so informal all of a sudden, would you mind telling me which house you came from”, Roman inquired, keeping his tone on the light side as to not upset Logan. He didn’t want the other to feel any ill feelings towards him, nor did he want the other to feel as alone as he may in the large palace. 

“Sanders, I am from the Sanders household, my prince”, Logan said and Roman’s face scrunched up at the title. 

“Don’t call me that, Roman is fine”, Roman said with a soft growl, no heat lacing his words. Logan gave a small chuckle and smiled at the royal. 

“If you insist, Roman. Pray tell, why do you inquire as to my lineage and previous owner?”, Logan asked, feeling his heightened vocabulary become more pronounced with each spoken phrase and question. 

“Is it not polite to ask of one’s heritage?”, Roman asked cheekily, smirking softly at the slave. 

“You must have many better things to do than baffling me with your courtesies”, Logan said and Roman chuckled this time, running a hand through his hair. 

“I do, but I feel as though we are connected, you and I”, Roman said and Logan laughed softly. 

“Would you prefer me to swoon or faint?”, Logan asked with a grin and Roman laughed loudly, landing heavily on Logan’s bed as the other walked over to join him. 

“I would prefer both and neither. Tell me of your time under the Sanders name”, Roman said smiling as Logan began to rattle off small stories about his previous owner. 

The man was definitely not going to fit in here, but Roman would teach him how to. He had too. This man was like a connection to a world he had never known. He didn’t want to lose it so fast. 

 

Patton groaned as the sun hit his face. The small, thin curtain stopping little of the natural light. All he wanted to do was rest and have some more sleep, but he knew that night was fast approaching and with Virgil out cold on the bed next to him it was most likely him that would be the one to gather tonight’s meal. With a sigh he stretched, got out of bed and exited the room, making his way to the kitchens to figure out how he would get food for himself and Virgil. 

After an hour of mindless walking and chatter, Patton found himself in the kitchen talking to the cook down there. The man was nice enough if a little rough around the edges. He had offered to make Virgil and Patton a special meal of their choosing since it would be their first night there. Patton had readily agreed due to his hunger and then began to assault the cook with questions about meals, meal times, how things worked and so on. The cook was kind enough to answer all of his questions before he shooed the younger man away with two plates of piping hot food and cool water. 

Patton hummed lightly as he entered his shared room and placed the two dishes down on the separate tables. He dug in almost immediately, stopping as Virgil’s body shifted and the man woke from his slumber. 

“Wha…where am I?”, Virgil asked sleepily and Patton chuckled at his friend’s sleep riddled mind. 

“At the Sanders household. I got us something to eat, so eat up”, Patton said softly and Virgil turned over, glancing at the food and water on the small table. Patton went back to eating his fill while Virgil attempted to sit upright and wat, pushing his back against the wall for support as he grabbed the food and took a large mouthful of the heavenly substance. 

“Sanders…Sanders…oh, owl insignia, now I remember”, Virgil muttered as he gulped down the water and took another bite of his meal. 

“Yeah, get to bed early tonight. We have to start getting up earlier than four in the afternoon”, Patton said with a chuckle and Virgil blushed a little. What could he say, he liked sleeping.

“Yeah, whatever”, Virgil muttered, growling a little as he finished off his food and set the dishes back on the small table. The light in the room dimmed as the sun became obscured by the other roofs, creating a comforting atmosphere. 

“I think…I think we’ll like it here”, Patton said softly as he set is dishes aside and lay on his bed, smiling at the ceiling of the shared room. Virgil hummed softly, turning over and looking out of the window. Tomorrow would be the decider on what attitude he should adorn. Tomorrow they’d see what Thomas really was. 

 

“Rise and shine, kiddo! We need to get our uniforms!”, Patton yelled from beside Virgil’s bed and Virgil bolted upright, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and looking around blearily. Patton stepped closer, leaning in a little with a smile on his face. 

“What?”, Virgil asked, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes before scrubbing his hands over his face. Why was Patton waking him up so early? With a groan he looked out of the window, when did they get such a nice view? When did they get such nice beds? It took a while before he finally came to his senses. He was a slave to the man whose slave had rescued him. It sounded more complicated than it was. 

Logan. A strange name for sure, that didn’t roll off the tongue quite as well as expected. Perhaps he could talk to Thomas, make him open up more about the slave he had owned previously. He wanted to meet this man again. He wanted to talk to him, thank him for sparing his life. He needed to talk to Logan, even if it was only for a second. He needed to say thank you. 

“Get up, sleepy head. It’s time to get to work. We have a home now”, Patton said with a smile and Virgil glanced in his direction, the blurry human shape coming into focus the more he looked at the overly happy man. He was way too energetic at this time of the morning. Virgil shook his head softly and looked out the window again, watching the dark sky for any signs of the sun. 

“What time is it?”, Virgil asked, trying to figure out if it was still night or not. The sun didn’t seem to be even moving at this point. 

“Around six in the morning. One of the other slaves came past and got me up, now I’m waking you up so we can get our uniforms and start work”, Patton said, moving back and flopping down onto his bed. Curling up a little before jumping off the mattress. Virgil watched at the man danced around the room. He frowned and glanced out the window once more. Why couldn’t Patton remember that they didn’t have to get up until seven, eight at the latest. Thomas wasn’t expecting them up until eight anyway, what was the point of getting up at the crack of dawn when even the sun hadn’t risen?

He slipped back down onto the bed, rolled over and glared at the window as the wind blew in softly from outside. The breeze was soft and pleasant, but it made Vergil want to gag. He wasn’t free anymore. He’d lost that when he tried to steal from that man. Why had he even tried that? He needed the money, but there was no way he would have been able to get away with it. He knew not to do it again. The whipping and starvation had made sure of that, but he was sorer about the fact that Thomas had given them so much freedom and yet, none at all. 

They could go where ever they wanted in the house, but they couldn’t leave. They could sleep in and have breaks throughout the day, but they still had to work to earn their keep. They could wear clothes that fit perfectly and were sturdy enough to not tear, but they had no choice in color or fit. Free and yet captive. 

More captive than free, Virgil thought grumpily as a knock sounded on the door and Patton jumped to his feet to get it. The door creaked open and Virgil bit down on his curiosity, continuing to glare at the window. 

“I’m here to escort you to the fitting area”, a female voice said. Virgil turned over and felt his breath leave him. The woman was old, yes, but she looked like him…like Logan. He was tempted to ask if she was him mother, or sister perhaps, but the woman looked so tired. Bags under her eyes and pale skin blending with the dark gray and white clothing she wore. He tried to imagine Logan with such gaunt features but all that came to him was the man’s smooth, healthy complexion like he’d never had a late night in his life. And perhaps, with Thomas as his owner, he hadn’t. Sanders had said that Logan was like a brother to him, he wouldn’t have worked the man too hard, would he?

Virgil frowned as the thought wormed its way into the forefront of his mind. For some reason, he didn’t like the idea of Thomas working Logan too hard. Perhaps it was his want to thank Logan for saving his life. In his book saving someone’s life required you to be in debt to them. Depending on one’s skills you would serve them until the debt had been repaid. Seeing as how he had once been a mercenary though, then a burglar for the black market, the thought of keeping Logan away from working too hard didn’t sit quite right with him. He supposed that this sort of thing was better left for another day. 

He pushed himself up right and walked to the door, following Patton and the woman to the fitting area previously mentioned. The room was round with four small arched windows. The walls were made of polished stone and four small tables held candles for light. There was one other door on the other side of the room, small and made of wood it seemed to be there for servants and the like to use. Virgil wondered if there were other pathways for servants like this one. His exploration with Patton the day prior hadn’t turned up any results like this, but that could be due to the fact they only walked through the hallways and didn’t open any doors. 

“I’ll take your measurements, now. Which of you would like to go first?”, the woman asked. There was silence for a while before she sighed, took out a length of string with lines on it and began to work on sizing up Patton. Patton lifted his arms when she batted the appendages, feeling a little self-conscious as Virgil retired to one of the tables, taking a seat on the wooden construction. Virgil grinned and stifled a laugh as the woman accidentally tripped Patton, the man flailed wildly before falling to the floor in a heap. 

“Sorry, dear”, the woman said softly, ignoring Virgil’s chuckles from the side of the room. Patton sat up and grinned at her, trying his best to make the most out of the situation. 

“It’s fine. You got caught up and didn’t notice. It was an accident and I’m already a really big klutz. No harm done”, Patton said, letting out a laugh. The woman didn’t smile, but her eyes softened at his laugh. 

“You remind me of my son”, she said softly and Virgil stopped chuckling, eyes and ears fixated on the woman as she spoke. 

“Who was he?”, Patton asked, just as softly as he stood and she began to work once more. She was silent for a time and the air in the room stilled in anticipation. 

“His name was Logan”, the woman said, stopping her work for a brief second before continuing. Virgil almost whooped, he’d been right about that little fact, but he held it in as he surveyed the woman. She seemed so sad and gray. What had happened to Logan that had caused her and Thomas to become so despondent?

“What happened to him? Thomas didn’t tell us and he wouldn’t talk about it”, Patton said and Virgil silently thanked the other for asking the hard questions. The woman stilled for a second before continuing her work. 

“He has a right to refuse to tell you. If I were not Logan’s mother, he would have been hurt most by what happened”, Logan’s mother said. Patton moved a little as she walked away from him and made a mark on a sheet of paper that lay on one of the other tables.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it”, Patton said with a small, soft smile, letting his body sag a little as she beckoned Virgil to Patton’s spot. The woman walked back as Virgil walked over and began to measure the other in the same fashion. 

“It’s good to get ill feelings out into the open, but be warned that Thomas would not like to be confronted by this and therefore you must not discuss my son’s absence with him around”, she said as she measured Virgil’s arm length. 

“Please, go on”, Patton encouraged as he took a seat on the table Virgil had recently vacated. The mother sighed a little before dropping to her knees and measuring Virgil’s leg length. 

“My son was taken by the castle. The king wanted him as a slave and Thomas cannot refuse the king. So, my son now works in the palace. There is a high chance I will never see him again, nor will you two ever meet him”, she said, admonishing Virgil with a small wack on his thigh as he shifted slightly. 

“Sorry”, he mumbled and she stood once more, dabbing at the corner of her eyes. 

“He was only taken yesterday, but his loss is already noticeable. Thomas is a lot less vibrant and I have not had the easiest of nights”, she said, smiling sadly as Patton offered her a small piece of cloth from his pocket. She took it gratefully and let the fabric soak up the small beads of water accumulating in her tear ducts. “Thank you.”

“Why would the king want Logan specifically?”, Virgil asked softly, not expecting an answer. Logan’s mother handed the cloth back and gave the man a stony stare. 

“He is a master at strategy, from what I have heard he beat the king in a game of chess and thus the king wants my son to sit in on his meetings as his strategist”, the mother said bitterly as she turned to the page and made a mark on it. 

“Oh…uh, maybe he’ll come visit?”, Patton suggested and the woman let out a hoarse chuckle, dry and lacking in amusement. 

“He would never be allowed. Now, for uniform assignments. As you two are new we will decide on where you work based on a simple test, until you have settled into your job you will wear similar outfits made of gray material. Once you have settled you will be assigned a color based on your job; green for agriculture, purple for scribing, orange for cooking, etcetera. If you earn a job higher up on the ladder as a personal slave rather than a house slave, you will be expected to wear the colors of your owner. If you, for some reason, end up as Thomas’ personal slaves you will wear whatever you please and have full run of the house. Any questions?”, the woman asked once she had finished her explanation. 

“What sort of test?”, Patton asked with a grin. 

“You will do each different job for a day and we will see how you fare. The only job you will not try out for is Thomas’ personal slaves. You will, however, be trying out for a job like that, but you will be under my control. I am not entitled to have slaves of my own, but you will do the work of a personal slave and I will mark you on that”, the mother said, settling back a little as Virgil rolled his eyes and Patton jumped up and down excitedly. 

“Where do we begin?”, the two asked in unison. Logan’s mother smiled a little before ushering them out of the room through the smaller, wooden door. 

“Let’s begin with getting you two some clothes, then move on to jobs within this household”, she said, a ghost of a smile appearing on her face. 

 

Roman strolled down the hallway with a smirk on his face. He was really warming up to Logan and vice versa. Logan seemed to be enjoying his time in the castle more. It had only been a couple of days and the staff were already including him, making sure he felt like he was wanted and needed. It warmed his heart to see the other being accepted so freely. It gave him…hope. Hope that the kingdom could be better. Hope that he could run the kingdom well. Hope that-

“Roman?”, a voice called out and Roman spun around, throwing on his most charming smile and letting his eyes fall closed. He opened them and smiled down at Logan. The man didn’t have the same chores as the other slaves and servants, so he was left to wander the castle and help out. 

“And what may I do for you?”, Roman asked, voice like silk and silver, soft and smooth. To any normal person the remark may be considered flirtatious, but the two knew better. Roman would only play flirt with Logan, taking the other’s pointers in how to do better, act better, flirt better. If he could get Logan to smile he had done a good job. 

“More ‘you’, less ‘what’”, Logan said and Roman made a mental note to practice the words later, at a more appropriate time. 

“Of course, mon chéri. How may I be of service to you, this fine day?”, Roman asked watching Logan’s face for emotion. 

“Good use of French, but don’t use ‘this fine day’. Back to the point though, I’d like to go into town. Would you escort me?”, Logan asked, looking Roman up and down with a small smile. Roman faltered a little. Going into town with a slave? Why would Logan need to go into town? He had everything he needed right here. 

With a skeptical frown Roman looked down at Logan, the man didn’t seem to have any malicious intent, but Roman wouldn’t take that chance of the other running off.

“I will escort you, on one condition”, Roman said and he almost smirked as Logan’s frown turned into a small, hopeful smile. “You don’t leave my side and you don’t run off.”

“That’s two conditions, but I accept”, Logan said with a smile and Roman frowned lightly as Logan grabbed his arm and began to tug him lightly down the hallway. 

“Where are we going?”, Roman asked as they rounded a corner and began to trek towards the front doors. When Logan didn’t answer Roman tugged his arm out of the man’s grip and just followed him a few paces behind the logic driven man. Logan hummed lightly as he opened the doors and walked towards a cart, pulling out a bronze coin to give to the man at the reigns. Roman watched as the man accepted the coin eagerly and Logan took his place in the back of the cart. 

Roman sighed and walked over, taking a seat opposite the man he cleared his throat. Logan looked at him with such hope filled eyes the price couldn’t look away. Hope like that…was precious. It didn’t just happen every day, especially with Logan. Roman coughed lightly, turning so his eyes were on the canvas wall that separated the carter and the two paying customers. 

“W-where are we headed?”, Roman asked looking at Logan briefly before turning his attention to the wooden bench beneath him. 

“We’re going to stop some executions”, Logan said with a smile and Roman’s head shot up. Stop executions? Was Logan crazy? Those people deserved to die. 

“Why are you stopping executions?”, Roman asked, watching as Logan’s smile softened and his eyes became downcast. 

“They deserve to live, even if they have to suffer through it. Everyone deserves life”, Logan said, fiddling with a small piece of stone. Roman had seen him do this before, usually when he was questioning something or unable to make a decision. 

“What is that?”, Roman asked, gesturing to the piece of stone. Logan gripped it tightly, shying away from the prince who looked at Logan with a mixture of shock and confusion. In all of Roman’s time, knowing this mystery of a man, he had never seen Logan behave like this. Shy, reserved, a little unsure. It was…a little unnerving to see the usually so stoic and emotionless man be so…unlike himself. 

“Logan?”, Roman asked, feeling a little out of his depth as the man shifted uncomfortably on the opposite bench. 

“I-it’s a token…sort of…it’s hard to explain, but it…it grounds me”, Logan said, swallowing audibly. 

“Is it from…Thomas?”, Roman asked softly. Even though the two had only known each other a couple of days he knew that Logan’s old owner was a…sensitive topic.

Logan nodded and Roman almost sighed at how deadbeat and depressed Logan looked. Biting his lip, he reached a hand out and hesitantly took hold of Logan’s somewhat shaking hands. 

“Let’s go give some people another chance”, Roman said, gripping Logan’s hand harder and dragging the man out of the cart. Roman pulled up his hood, making sure no one would recognize him, but he needn’t have worried. 

“Logan!”, a couple of voices shouted out and Roman flinched softly as a small group of children ran up and gathered around Logan’s legs. 

“We missed you”, a small boy said, grabbing Logan’s leg and holding on tight. 

“Andrew, please refrain from hugging my leg. I must use that to walk”, Logan said with a hint of amusement in voice. Roman smiled at the notion and took a step back to admire the sight. Small children swarmed Logan like a murder of crows. They grabbed at his shirt and pants, laughing and smiling up at him like he would give them the world. He probably would, Roman thought as the other man smiled lightly, scooping up a small, black haired boy. He was tempted to continue watching as people of all ages began to gather around the man, talking and laughing with him as if they had known him his whole life. They probably had, seeing as how easy it was for Logan to smile around them. 

Roman leaned back on the cart and watched on. Waiting for Logan to finish up so they could continue their journey. 

“Now, now everyone. I must go see the souls whose time has run out”, Logan said gently, smiling softly when the children groaned and awed in disappointment. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back and I’ll bring a special friend of mine next time”, Logan said to a small uproar from the children.

“A special friend! Is it Thomas?”, a small girl asked, grabbing his leg and grinning up at him excitedly. 

“No”, Logan said with a smirk. 

“Is it someone we know?”, the black-haired boy asked and Logan ruffled the boy’s hair.

“They are”, Logan complied as the group made little noises of happiness. 

“Is it your boyfriend?”, a girl asked looking up at Logan with shining eyes. Logan chuckled and Roman faltered, going rigid and straight at the mention of a suitor. 

“No, but they are very close to me”, Logan said to a small whine of disappointment. 

“When are you getting a boyfriend?”, the first girl asked and Logan bent down so he was roughly her height. 

“When I find the right man”, Logan said. 

“I’m the right man!”, a brown-haired boy yelled out and Logan smiled at him. The boy seemed a little startled when Logan turned to him.

“Are you really? Well, if you’re my new boyfriend, why don’t you go get some flowers to commemorate this special day”, Logan said, biting back a laugh as the boy’s face flushed red and he ran off into a nearby field. Roman watched astonished as the boy left, two others following in his wake. Who would have guessed Logan had such young suitors? 

“Logan”, Roman said softly and the logical man turned to him with a small smile on his face. 

“Let’s get going then, shall we?”, Logan asked, extending his hand to Roman. The other batted it away lightly and trailed after the logical man. 

They walked to the jail, children trailing their every step. It wasn’t until now that Roman had to consider how Logan would possibly be able to keep these people from being executed. Surely the slave was not rich enough nor wise enough to help them escape their grizzly fate. 

“Logan, good to see you again son”, a guard said, ducking his head a little to look at the logical man. 

“A pleasure as always, Terrance”, Logan said acknowledging the smiling man. 

“Here to keep a few off the chopping block?”, Terrance asked and Logan nodded softly. “You know the way”, Terrance said, stepping aside and allowing Logan to pass. 

“Thank you, Terrance”, Logan said, moving inside the jail without another word. 

“And who might you be stranger?”, Terrance asked happily, looking Roman up and down. Roman was almost tempted to say he was the prince, but Logan beat him to it. 

“He’s with me”, Logan’s voice called out and Terrance stepped aside to let Roman through. 

“Enjoy and…don’t try anything. We’ll all know if you hurt him”, Terrance said and Roman shivered a little at the implications. 

“I would never hurt him”, Roman growled, walking inside the jail before Terrance could utter another word. 

Criminals and vagabonds. All Roman could see were criminals and vagabonds. What did Logan see in these people that was worth salvaging? He walked behind Logan keeping a lookout for any stray hands that snatched at the slave or himself. Logan didn’t seem to be paying too much attention as the caged people jeered at them. He seemed more preoccupied with something in his sleeve. The quartz maybe. 

Roman followed steadily, watching and listening until something caught his attention. A loud buzzing then the sound of metal and grinding. The sound of sharpening. They must be sharpening the ax up for the executions. 

“We’re here”, Logan called out and Roman stilled as the grinding stopped. A head poked around the side of the doorframe and a girl smiled at the two. 

“Good to see you again, Logan. Doing well I hope”, the girl asked and Roman took a second to examine her appearance. Hair shaved on all sides with a bunch of fluffy hair at the top, brightly dyed in varying colors. Small and lean, but not overly so. 

“And to you, Talyn”, Logan said with a small smile. Talyn smiled back before her head disappeared and she walked out of the room covered shoulder to toe in black. 

“A visitor today, that’s new”, the shorter female said as she looked past Logan at his companion. Roman shrunk away into the shadows as Logan turned his head and looked back at him. 

“Yes, this is…Roman, he’s a special guest of mine”, Logan said putting a little more emphasis on the word guest. 

“Ah, well, as long as he doesn’t kick me outta my job, I’m fine with him staying around. You, on the other hand, are going to have to offer a pretty good price. I have two murderers, a burglar, and three violators. Joan has four violators and an assassin. They want to kill the assassin at least”, Talyn said with a little huff of laughter.

“This should be enough”, Logan said and Roman watched, wide-eyed as Logan produced a small sack, full to bursting with gold coins. Talyn’s eyes gleamed with excitement. 

“You’re too good to us, Logan. You really are an angel”, she said, taking the gold and walking into the room, returning quickly with a disgruntled looking person behind her. 

“You couldn’t have let me kill the assassin, could you?”, the person asked and Talyn busied herself with grabbing the right keys off of a thin, metal ring. 

“All lives are worth saving, Joan”, Logan said as he walked up to the two and smiled softly at them. 

“Well, let’s go set some people free and back into the jail”, Talyn said with a grin and Logan followed her, Joan and Roman at their heels. 

“So, who’re you?”, Joan asked and Roman looked at the ground. 

“Roman”, the prince said softly and Joan’s eyes roamed over Roman’s hunched posture. 

“I’m Joan”, they said and Roman let his eyes move to them. 

“Nice to meet you”, Roman said, straightening a little and giving the ground a little smile. 

“You sound familiar. Have you ever been in this jail?”, Joan asked glancing ahead at Logan and Talyn for a second before looking back at Roman. 

“No”, Roman said, leaving it at that and subconsciously grabbing at the small bag of coin in his robes. 

“If you say so”, Joan said with a weary look, before shrugging and walking faster to catch up with their two friends. 

“I do say so”, Roman muttered under his breath, knowing that the other three couldn’t hear him. 

The group rounded another corner and entered a room where people of all ages – usually teens up, nothing bellow that – sat in cells that lined the walls. They seemed sad, but one or two perked up when the four entered the room. 

“Is it judgment day already?”, a gruff voice asked and Roman’s eyes landed on a man with a gray, grizzly beard who sent him a sneer. Roman felt a little anger well up in him but he kept moving with the other three, making sure to stick to the center of the room as Talyn and Joan walked around with cuffs and keys, letting the prisoners out into the room and then escorting them back to the prison for reassignment and auctioning. This went on for a little while before the last woman was set free and taken away. Logan smiled at his friends before bidding them farewell and walking away down the corridor, Roman catching up quickly and making sure that he stayed within sight.

 

The pair exited the prison, Terrance giving them a little wave as they left and Logan smiled a little as the sun hit his face. Roman watched from a distance feeling his own mouth twitch into a smile. Children once again began to swamp Logan and Roman couldn’t hold back a chuckle as he watched Logan from the shade of an oak tree. Logan seemed to be playing with them as he walked around the center of the city, jumping up onto the edge of the fountain and smiling softly as the children milled around and took a seat below where he had jumped up. Logan took a seat on the edge and began to talk to them, filling their heads with stories of dragons and knights, monsters and kings.

Roman was honestly a little impressed that the logical man could whip up such fabrications right on the spot. His voice was soothing, calming as it flowed like the water behind him. The children seemed so happy too. 

“L-Logan”, a small voice said and the logical man stopped talking, turning to look as the small brown haired boy from before walked up to him shyly, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Tom”, Logan said with a small smile and the boy blushed at Logan’s smile. 

“I…I got these for you”, Tom said, bringing a small bunch of golden flowers. Buttercups, Roman’s mind supplied as the boy held out the bouquet to Logan, who grinned and took the flowers gently. Bringing them up to his nose to smell. Tom smiled and took a seat next to Logan on the fountain edge. 

“Does anyone know what flowers these are?”, Logan asked and a lone hand rose from the small sea of children. 

“Buttercups”, a little girl said smiling when Logan praised her. 

Roman watched a little longer as the sun began to set, orange and pink painting the fountain and crowd. The sun set behind Logan, illuminating the man as he talked. He finally said goodbye to the insistent children and took his leave to Roman’s side. The pair walked to the cart in silence. 

They rode without a word, Logan taking a little whiff of the flowers every now and again. The light filtering in through the slit at the back of the cart turned from orange and pink to white and silver as the sun finally set, leaving the moon to take its place in the sky. 

“They like you”, Roman said as he pulled his hood down. 

“I suppose they must”, Logan said with the hint of a smile on his face, fixing his glasses softly as they entered the palace gates.


	3. Empty Is the Soul That Lives for Someone Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filler, filler, filler, filler, filler...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while, huh... I didn't really think people liked this but I guess I was wrong. Chapter 4 is in the works and should be done by either the end of March or early to mid April. A long time rame I know, but I have a few updates to stories I need to make. I hope you all enjoy the chapter and I hope it's not too boring. Thanks to those of you who are commenting and giving me kudos for this <3

Virgil groaned as the last dish from that night’s dinner was stacked away in its place. He pushed himself up from the floor where the cupboard was, cracking his back loudly and feeling satisfaction course through his bones. Patton wasn’t too far off finishing so Virgil decided to walk back to the room they shared. He pushed the door open and flopped onto the bed with a huff. He hoped to whatever deities there were that he would never have to work in the kitchens ever again. Everything hurt. It was like a cat, no a monster cat, had taken his arms and shredded the muscles inside. His legs were like jelly and he had no idea how he’d cope with whatever tomorrow’s ‘punishment’ would be. 

Agriculture had given him a sunburn, scribing made his hand cramp, and kitchen work…he’d almost broken half of the dishes trying to carry them to their places. He ran through what was left and realized there was only one job left, personal slave. He thought about it. What would that mean? Would he be able to cope with whatever was to happen tomorrow?

Patton’s body sinking into his bed made Virgil look up. The optimistic man looked tired, flat out tired. Virgil felt sorry for him. He wasn’t even that bad of a person. He’d gotten caught trying to get bread for an orphan girl and now here he was, living as a slave for someone with the authority to have him executed. Poor guy. 

Then again, Logan probably had it just as bad. From what he’d found out the man was…different. Different in an educated way, different in an unemotional way, different, different, different. Kind and gentle, but stern and sometimes hostile, was how the man had been described. He couldn’t picture someone like Logan fitting in too well with castle staff. 

“Virge, can we turn the lights out? I want to sleep”, Patton asked and Virgil knew he couldn’t deny the other. With a soft sigh Virgil blew out the candle and the room was plunged into darkness. 

Virgil rolled over and looked up at the dark ceiling. Slavery wasn’t hell, but it wasn’t a picnic either. He was definitely grateful to have been picked up by the Sanders, but…he loved his life before he got caught. He loved the life he had before…this. He loved how free he had once been. Loved how he could see the world in a week. Loved how he could be…free. Now, he was a slave and all because he got caught. To think a mercenary would get caught. 

Virgil sighed as his memories resurfaced. The flying feeling, then the landing, then the diamond, then the guards and the cell and Patton and a year gone in the blink of an eye. He’d never be able to thank Logan enough for sparing him his death, but…he sometimes wished the ax had come down anyway. 

Thomas looked into the mirror on his wall. He looked like a wreck and that was putting it nicely. Who knew losing Logan would be so devastating? Oh, right, he did. 

Thomas sighed and glared at the floor. Martha had been quiet about her son leaving, but Thomas knew it had shaken her to her core just as much as it did with him. His stomach grumbled and he fell back onto his bed. He hadn’t eaten anything that day and barely anything the past few days. Usually, Logan would come in and force him to eat if he was in a slump like he was right now. 

But Logan wasn’t here now. So, he had no reason to get up. No motivation to get up and moving. No motivation to eat or drink. Is this what grief felt like? Maybe he was depressed? Is this what depression felt like? Was it worse?

Thomas curled up a little as a knock sounded on his door. 

“Uh…Sir Sanders”, a voice called out. Thomas almost sighed, but he called the man in any way. 

Virgil entered the room and looked around, eyes landing on Thomas’ form. 

“I brought lunch”, Virgil muttered, depositing the dishes onto Thomas’ bedside table before taking a step back and surveying his owner. The man looked half dead. Almost lifeless. Could losing a slave really do that to a person? Probably not…but maybe a brother could. 

Virgil’s eyes strayed to the cloth covering the window, making the room darker than it already was. His footsteps were soft on the stone floor as he moved to the window, pulling the curtains apart and allowing the bright sunlight to flood the room. Thomas hissed weakly and curled up tighter. Virgil turned on his heel and walked over to the bed, grabbing Thomas’ shoulder and pulling him out of the curled position. 

With a frown, Virgil pulled Thomas across the bed and to the meal, which sat on patiently on the table. 

“Eat”, Virgil growled and Thomas blinked up at the slave with wide eyes. Virgil grumbled softly before grabbing the tray and putting it on the bed in front of Thomas. “Eat”, he once again demanded, waiting with crossed arms for Thomas to begin the meal. Thomas, though shocked and startled by the others sudden demands, began to eat the meal, swallowing little bites of prepared food. 

Virgil smirked a little before exiting the room triumphantly. Thomas waited until the door had closed and the footsteps had faded, then he pushed the tray back and pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on the tops of them. If he didn’t know Virgil wasn’t Logan he might have been fooled into thinking his brother had returned to him. But knowing Virgil and Logan were separate people and not the same, he sighed and let his eyes slip closed. 

By morning though he’d come to a decision. A decision to instate Virgil as his personal slave, thus giving him a position much like Logan’s used to be. He knew the idea may not be the wisest, the man had only been in his household for a few days, but the idea of having Logan back thrilled him, even if the person wasn’t Logan completely. 

Thomas walked through the halls, having pulled himself out of bed. He made his way past the various guest rooms to the servant’s quarters. He stopped outside the room that had recently received occupants and sighed, a small smile on his face. He knocked on the door and waited for an answer. There was rustling and then a yawn, a groan and the sound of something landing on the floor. Heavy footsteps trailed to the door and Thomas suddenly realized it was only six in the morning. He felt guilt creep through him as the door began to creak open. 

Patton’s eyes blinked heavily, sleep and sudden wakefulness making his vision blur more than usual. His glasses abandoned by his bed and Virgil half-awake on the other side of the room, sheets twisted like snakes around his body. Patton looked up at Thomas and tried to act as awake as he could in the face of the head of the household. 

“Good morning, Sir Sanders”, Patton said, stifling a yawn. Thomas almost chuckled at the man, though his guilt at making the man get up so early sat heavy in his stomach. 

“Good morning to you, Patton. May I come in?”, Thomas asked poking his head inside the doorway. 

Patton murmured a ‘yes’, while Virgil groaned softly and turned his body over to sit up. 

“May I?”, Thomas asked, gesturing to the end of Virgil’s bed, the man growled softly but pulled his legs up regardless so his owner could sit down on the blankets. 

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”, Virgil almost spat out, upset he was losing sleep over this. Thomas swallowed heavily and bit his lip, pushing his fingertips together as his eyes landed on the floor. 

“I was wondering…would you like to be my personal slave. You don’t have to if you don’t want to”, Thomas asked, not taking his eyes off the floor. The two stared at him sleepily and Thomas felt his neck prickle, sweat beginning to form at the base of his neck. 

“Which one of us?”, Patton asked, clasping his hands together in his lap as the tension grew in the small room. 

“Virgil. Would you like to be my personal slave, Virgil?”, Thomas asked softly and the man sighed, biting his lip as his eyes locked on Patton’s twiddling thumbs. 

“You said you wouldn’t split us up. If you think I’m going to leave Patton by himself, you can forget about it”, Virgil said grimly, turning his eyes to glare at Thomas. 

“I did, promise that didn’t I. Would you both accept the position then?”, Thomas asked and Patton’s face broke into a smile. 

“Of course, we would”, the overly happy man said before Virgil could get a word in edgewise. 

“Great, you start tomorrow at eight. I’ll let you have today off. Go to Martha at lunch and she should be able to get you two set for clothing. You can choose whatever you want, but you might want to ask her if she can make you more than one outfit”, Thomas said, smiling as he stood and walked out the door, closing it gently and starting off to his bedroom once more. 

“You didn’t let me agree or disagree”, Virgil growled as he slumped back under the covers, pulling them tight around himself as he watched Patton get back into his bed. 

“Would you have said no?”, Patton asked, sounding a little worried, eyes darting to Virgil. 

“No, I wouldn’t have”, Virgil said sourly. 

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I would have liked to say yes myself.”

“Sorry, kiddo”, Patton said with a small yawn, covering himself in the warm blankets once more. 

“Not your kid”, Virgil muttered as sleep overtook them and they were whisked off to a land of darkness and dreams. 

Patton groaned as the sun penetrated his closed eyes. The red color tinging his vision for a second before the light, yellow-tinged ceiling came into focus. Well, as much focus as one can have when one is not wearing one’s glasses and is, almost, as blind as a bat. 

Patton chuckled at his own comparison. Combined with Virgil it was more than likely they could pass for a bat. With Virgil’s dark clothing and Patton’s terrible eyesight it was more than likely they could live out life as a bat. 

Virgil’s groan of wakefulness made the other sigh contentedly. It was nice to have a stable home once more, especially with the only person he could really trust. Virgil always said he was too trusting, but what wasn’t there to trust. Virgil was always by his side, he knew all of Patton’s secrets, he kept all of Patton’s secrets, and he always made sure Patton was looked after. 

“What time is it?”, Virgil asked and Patton chuckled lightly at the man’s sleep filled voice. 

“I think it’s about twelve, maybe one in the afternoon”, Patton said softly, turning over to face Virgil’s still form. 

“Great”, the man muttered. Patton smiled at that. Same Virgil, different cell. Because that’s what this was. That’s what this room was. It was a cell, just a nicer, brighter, warmer version of their old prison cell. Patton swallowed softly before he spoke again. 

“Better get up, buddy. We need to go to…Martha and get some clothes”, Patton said with a smile, pushing his body up from the mattress and blankets. 

Virgil muttered curses under his breath. So, Logan’s mother's name was Martha. Martha…old fashioned, but nice. Had an air of sophistication about it. 

With a small growl of annoyance, Virgil forced his body out of the bed, got dressed and walked to the door to wait for Patton, knowing the other would take a little longer to get dressed. Patton fumbled about a little with his glasses, cleaning them as best he could before he began to get dressed, stopping to make his bed before walking over to the door. 

“Let’s get this over with”, Virgil muttered, stalking out of the room with a sour frown.

“You really know how to pick them, don’t you”, Martha asked, sighing a little as the two new slaves walked in. 

“They…well…um…”, Thomas fumbled with his words before settling on a small, nervous smile. 

“I get it, don’t worry. They remind me of my son as well”, Martha said and Thomas let his eyes drop to the floor, glancing between his feet and Martha’s. “Good morning you two, ready to get into something more your style?”, Martha asked and the two males nodded, watching their owner step away and walk to the side of the room, waiting for them to get their new outfits. “What would you like?”, Martha asked, looking between the two and motioning to the piles of multi-colored fabric and premade outfits. 

“Something dark”, Virgil murmured, shoving his hands into the pockets of the white outfit. 

“I have a black outfit. Shirt and baggy pants with some dark scarves to match. Sound good?”, Martha asked, walking over to the outfits and pulling out the combination. Virgil nodded and she handed him the dark ensemble. “And for you?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. I’ve never been good with colors or anything like that. Sorry”, Patton mumbled, blushing and apologizing as his eyes roamed the clothing. 

“See anything you like?”, Martha asked and Patton shook his head a little, letting his eyes drop to the ground as he pushed some of his hair back. “How about I dress you up? Sound good?”

“You’d get me a nice outfit that looks good?”, Patton asked softly and Martha felt herself smile at the man’s shyness and indecision. 

“Of course, I used to dress Logan and Thomas all the time and look how well that turned out”, Martha said, making Patton look Thomas up and down with a smile. 

“She does know how to dress. Logan always looked stylish when we went out together”, Thomas said and Martha nodded at the compliment. 

“He didn’t like me mothering him, you either, but he would allow me the courtesy to tell him how to dress”, Martha said with a smirk as she looked Patton up and down, eyes lighting up with joy as an idea came to her mind. “Got it”, she muttered as she walked over to the wrack and picked out a blue shirt, grey scarf and white pants. “Put these on”, she demanded and Patton walked off compliantly, making his way to the curtain Virgil had disappeared behind. 

The two emerged later with small noises of happiness. Their shirts cut off at the shoulder, collar leaf-less collars reaching half way up their necks, buttoned snugly around the flesh, bone, and muscles. Patton’s scarf covering his neck and shoulder blades, while Virgil’s was tied around his waist. Their pants ballooned at the bottom, clinging to their hips and disappearing under their shirts. Patton a mixture of grey and light aqua blue, Virgil completely black. 

“That look’s stunning”, Martha said with a smile and the two smiled back at her, Virgil’s a little smaller and lighter than Patton’s. 

“Thank you. You really know how to dress. This is great”, Patton said, looking down at his outfit with a smile, eyes shining behind his glasses. He put his hands on his hips and pushed a foot out so he could turn it this way and that, admiring the bottoms of his pants. 

“Well, thank you”, Martha said, smiling as the enthusiastic man turned to and fro, spinning in a circle and smiling widely as his scarf whipped out behind him a little. 

“No, thank you. This is so nice. The pants and shirts are so comfortable, and the scarf is such a nice color”, Patton said, running a hand over the portion of the scarf that looped around the front of his neck and chest. 

“It’s nothing. I made clothes all day, might as well get some use out of it. Thomas, what do you think?”, the woman asked, looking back at the man who nodded appreciatively. 

“You both look great. Do you like your outfits?”, Thomas asked and the two nodded in sync. 

“I’ll get some others ready. Do you want to try on anything else?”, Martha asked and Patton’s face lit up more if that could be believed. Racing over to the racks and stacks of clothing so he could pick out something else making the woman and Thomas smile at his childish behavior. Virgil nodded softly and walked over, eyeing the dark and black fabrics that were the furthest from Patton’s choices, consisting mostly of light colors. 

A few minutes later both had a small handful of clothing each; dark colors such as purple and black for Virgil, light colors such as yellow, grey and blue for Patton. Thomas looked at the rack and then down at his own clothing – grey shirt, white pants, aqua sleeveless coat, and white scarf all courtesy of Martha and her fine tastes. Martha seemed pleased with this and was finally allowed to leave as Thomas stepped up to give them a look over, a small smile on his face as he nodded at the two.

“You both look perfectly fine, I must say Martha does an excellent job. Now, for your tasks today”, Thomas said, rummaging around inside his coat before pulling out a small piece of paper folded neatly in half. He opened it and looked it over, nodding and handing it over, “first I require you both to supervise and tally the other slaves. This will tell me if any have escaped, it will also tell me how well everything is coming along in the different sections. Your only other task today will begin later in the day around noon, you will accompany me to an auction and keep a look out for pickpockets, vagabonds and other people who may want to steal from me. These are your tasks for today, do your best and I shall see you both at noon.”

Thomas turned on his heel, hands clasped behind his back as he stepped towards one of the hallways. He ran a hand over one of the stones smiling fondly at the tiny charcoal marks that littered the stone, a remnant of his childhood however small. It was one of the only places he refused to allow people to touch and maintained it with care. These tiny black marks that Martha had added to the stones over time were indicators of his and Logan’s growth over the years. Every year a new one was added at the beginning of the year, this had become more or less a tradition that happened every year. Now that could no longer happen an idea struck Thomas to have them added in permanently, a reminder if you would of his childhood and his childhood friend.

“Ma- Sir Sanders?”, a voice asked, and Thomas looked back, fond eyes and smile turning into a questioning look. Patton stilled a little and Virgil shifted lightly from one foot to the other. 

“Yes?”, Thomas asked, putting on his most welcoming and homely look so as not to make the poor men too uncomfortable. 

Patton looked at the floor, then back up as he summoned the courage to speak, “what should we do if we finish off supervision early?”

Thomas chuckled softly at the hesitant look on Virgil’s face and the unwavering determination on Patton’s, “if you have finished early I would ask you to clean, but otherwise you may spend the time however you wish. If you do decide to clean you will find the tools you require in a little room off of the kitchen, you would be helping those who clean this place quite a bit, but if you would prefer something else you may help elsewhere until noon.”

“Thank you, Sir Sanders”, Patton said before grabbing Virgil’s hand and dragging the man off behind him. Thomas smiled at the two and nodded gently, tracing two of the marks near his hip before pulling his hand back and walking away from the room. 

Roman looked up into the darkness of the sky. He frowned and turned back to his room, lit with candles and ready for sleep. He didn’t like it. Not that the luxury wasn’t appreciated, he just didn’t like thinking about how his good fortune could be spent some other way. He screwed with his hair and grabbed the railing behind him. 

“Roman?”, a voice asked and Roman’s eyes darted to his door, Logan’s head appearing from behind the large panels of wood and metal. Roman ducted out of sight into the dark shadows cast by the large stone and mortar construct he called home. He hoped Logan didn’t see him. Although it was a highly likely possibility that Logan had, there was a tiny part of him that hoped he hadn’t. Footsteps moved through his room and to the balcony. Roman’s breath hitched as Logan appeared on the balcony, looking out across the sprawling laws, darkness covering them and making them hard to see. 

“I can see why you come out here so often. It really is a thing of beauty”, Logan said and Roman shifted in the darkness, feeling a little uncomfortable. 

“I…I uh”, Roman fidgeted with his hands, taking his eyes off the scenery and choosing to look down at his feet instead. The stars twinkled above, glittering and turning the stone and marble below into silver. 

“You should work on your eloquence”, Logan said with a sigh, putting his elbows on the railing and bending his back, crossing his arms to create a pillow. Silence fell, punctuated only by the soft running of water from the fountains and small rivers below. Roman took a step forward, then another, walking slowly to the drowsy looking slave. 

“Sorry”, Roman said as he stood next to Logan, putting his own elbows on the railing and letting a hand cup the side of his face. They looked out at the lawn, Roman’s eyes trailing on the glowing rivers below. The moon bounced off the rocks and water, illuminating the clear liquid with an eerie white light. 

“Don’t be. Just work on it”, Logan murmured and Roman looked down at his companion on this clear night. The light worked in his favor, shadowing himself while giving him the full extent of Logan’s story. Dark circles, tired eyes, pale skin. His father must have been working the logical man non-stop. Roman frowned at the idea.

“I’ll talk to my father tomorrow”, he announced, and Logan’s eyes slid to him from behind his glasses. Handsome brown meeting-tired brown. Logan let a little smile slip onto his face as his eyes returned to the moonlit landscape. 

“I can handle the workload”, Logan said softly and Roman snorted. It was clear to Roman that Logan needed rest. The last thing the kingdom needed was a tired strategist that looked like death was at his doorstep. 

“Go back to your room. You need sleep”, Roman muttered softly smirking in triumph when Logan relented and stood upright, stretching and sighing softly. It was understood by now that the two would take care of one another, though it had only been a few days they had grown quite close. So, it was not very surprising when Roman offered to escort Logan back to his room. 

“You don’t have to”, Logan said with a small yawn. 

“I do have to. You look dead on your feet and I don’t want to feel responsible if you fall asleep on the way back to your room”, Roman said, chuckling a little when the logical man stumbled towards the door. 

“I can handle myself”, Logan grumbled as he attempted to leave the room. Roman laughed lightly and made his way over to the door. 

“You must be tired if you can barely open a door”, Roman said pulling the door open for the other, watching as Logan stumbled out of the room and rammed his shoulder painfully into the wall opposite. 

“’M fine”, Logan said softly, cradling his shoulder close with a hiss of pain. 

“Now I just feel guilty”, Roman said quietly. He ignored Logan’s glare and walked over, crouching down and wrapping his arms around Logan’s upper back and knees, lifting the other up with ease. 

“What are you doing?”, Logan asked sleepily and Roman chuckled at the man’s obvious sleepiness. He pulled Logan closer as the man struggled a bit, ultimately failing in flailing. “Put me down. I can walk…by …myself”, the man grunted out, only making Roman laugh. 

“Not like this you can’t”, Roman said as he carried the other back to his room. It’s harder to open the door when you’re holding someone roughly the same weight as you, but somehow Roman managed and was able to drop Logan on the bed. With a small sigh, Roman opened his mouth to reprimand Logan but noticed the other had fallen asleep already. Roman smiled and stepped back, blowing out the lone, lit candle in Logan’s room before he exited the room, smiling as he made his way back to his own room. 

Morning called the prince to rise from his bed, sun glimmering and gleaning through glass while the grey stones shone with the orange of early daylight. It was ethereal in a way, the shimmering of cold stone in the early hours of morning, so different from its usual coloring and steady gleam. Roman sat upright, stretching in his bed as he yawned loudly. The birds outside his room chirped loudly, voices high and light as the sun slowly rose from its bed into the sky. The daylight called to him softly, whispers of warmth and promises of a new day on his mind as he pulled back the covers and threw his legs over the side of the bed. The stone was cold under his feet, chilling his skin through to the bone, but he preferred this to the heat that would grace it once the sun had fully risen. In his somewhat sleep-addled mind, Roman could only think of the birds and the faint thoughts of getting dressed. These swirled around in his skull, bounced off the inside of his head and ran rampant until he shook them into place. 

His hair stuck out in all directions, brown locks moving lightly as Roman stood and moved to his small mirror, yawning as he stared at his reflection. A smile flowed onto his face and he raked a hand through his hair, strands pulled into place by his dexterous fingers. His outfit was laid out already, chosen by one of his father’s personal tailors. Roman moved to where it all sat, atop a small marble table on the other side of his room, closer to the door. Today seemed to be a white and black day, Roman mused as he looked over the pile of fabric consisting of a white shirt and black pants. The shirt was adorned with tiny golden leaves around the ends of the sleeves, the top of the neck and bottom of the shirt. Roman nodded at the outfit, pleased with what he found as he began to dress, he would be required to entertain his father’s presence this morning as he did the morning before. 

As the last of the clothing was pulled on Roman ran his fingers once more through his hair before grabbing a small cloth and a bottle of liquid that sat next to the door, he poured a little of the liquid onto the cloth and dabbed it on his neck before setting it down and exiting the room. He walked the long hallways alone, eyes moving over the drapes as he turned corner after corner. Eventually, he entered the dining hall where a long table sat, full of food and drink for breakfast. 

He eyed it all hungrily, hand tapping the end of the dark wood table gently before he looked at the other end of the table, his father not having shown up yet. It was strange that he be early or on time to breakfast while his father remained absent. There was a cough from behind Roman and the prince turned to see a tired looking Logan. His heart swelled a little with sadness for the man while he turned his body to fully face him. Logan gave him a nod and stepped inside with a small, tired smile. 

“Your father has asked me to sit in for him at this morning’s breakfast. I am to converse with you and ask you about your duties then report back to him with the information I have attained”, the slave said and Roman nodded softly moving a little closer and taking Logan’s hand gently, the man seemed uncomfortable with the contact but made no move to pull his hand away. 

“Have you had breakfast yet or has my father allowed you to eat at our table?”, Roman asked and Logan stepped forward, eyes focused on the stones under his feet. 

“I am to not eat at your majesty’s table, but rather later in the kitchens”, Logan said as he began to walk towards the king’s usual seat. Roman nodded and let go of Logan’s hand, quickly dashing around the table to the seat he usually took while the strategist took the seat opposite. 

“Please, eat”, Roman said with a small smile, gesturing to the plates of food littered around Logan’s spot.

“I am under orders not to, but do eat yourself my prince”, the man said, reclining a little and closing his eyes, barriers receding a little as he seemed to slip off into sleep that he must so desperately need. 

“Logan”, Roman spoke up, taking a plate from in front of him and pulling it closer to take some of the food, “you are weary. Rest. I will not tell my father and the castle will be sworn to secrecy. Rest, mon chéri.”

Logan looked up at the prince, nodding in a tired fashion before his eyes closed once more and his body relaxed into the chair. Roman smiled at the sight, beginning to eat his breakfast as the sounds of quiet breathing relaxed him.


End file.
